


Anger

by rudolphsb9



Series: Not That Far Apart After All [5]
Category: Hitman: Agent 47 (2015)
Genre: Gen, Siblings, number siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7868407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudolphsb9/pseuds/rudolphsb9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anger is one of the five stages of grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anger

Fandom: Hitman: Agent 47  
Rating: T  
Characters: Agent 47; Katia Van Dees  
Relationship: Number Siblings  
Summary: Anger is one of the five stages of grief.

~~~

Katia watched him, cleaning his guns like any other day, like nothing had happened, and felt herself grow increasingly disgusted. “You’re working out who to blame, aren’t you,” he said simply. “You can’t blame me, because you know it was an order; you won’t blame your father even though he essentially killed himself—”

“You act like he killed himself,” she spat. “You say it like it’s giving a recovering alcoholic a bottle of Sailor Jerry when it reality it’s more like buying your buddy a beer. You gave him the detonator. Otherwise he wouldn’t have blown himself up.” He looked at her for a moment, long enough for anyone to notice, and then returned to his work. “Don’t give me that!” She shot to her feet. “Don’t sit there and act like it’s all normal, like nothing ever happened, you killed him! She killed him! And for…for what? Your stupid contract? Your…your mission?” In a rage she flipped the table, spilling pieces of his weapons as well as the polish he was using onto the floor. “Fuck your stupid mission,” she growled, pointing at him and then turning slightly as if to leave, or as if she didn’t want to look at him anymore.

“Katia—” He stood, reaching out a hand for her. Katia barely remembered what happened next, just lunging at him. The next thing she knew they were on the floor, his face bruised and cut and her hands around his neck. His hands locked around her wrists, and she could feel him pushing up, trying to alleviate the pressure a little. She pushed herself off of him, and he inhaled sharply. Now she desperately didn’t want to look at him, so she charged for the adjoining bedroom and slammed the door behind her, leaning against it.

***

Several hours later, after he’d finished his original project and gotten everything cleaned up after their fight, 47 knocked on the door. “Katia?” he asked softly, and he eased the door open, finding her sitting on the bed, hugging her knees and burying her face in them. She glanced at him briefly before turning away. “Katia,” he continued, approaching slowly and sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at her over his shoulder.

“Either tell me what you want or go away,” she grumbled.

“I’m not judging you for being angry,” he said after a moment. “Do you think that by allowing yourself only short bursts of emotion I’ll approve of you in some way?”

“It’s not about that!” she yelled, rushing to her feet again. 47 stood as well, bracing for another attack. As if anticipating his next question before he even thought of it, she continued, “It’s about the fact…that I feel like I’m the only one who gives a single flying fuck that my father is dead! My father! And he was your father too!” She gestured first to herself and then jammed a finger into 47’s chest. “And you act like you’re so above it all, like nothing gets to you. Like it doesn’t even matter to you that he’s gone,” she growled. She turned away from him, taking a few steps and exhaling heavily as she paused to run a hand through her hair.

“What do you want from me, Katia?”

“Some fucking sign that you care about what you’ve done, what she’s done! Some indication that you recognize what’s been taken from us!” Katia wheeled on him, shouting again and threatening an advance. But instead of that promised advance, she dropped to her knees, her head on her wrists, and wept. “He was all I had,” she said through her tears. He walked over to her, shrugging off his coat and draping it over her shoulders and squatting in front of her.

“I’m supposed to hide what I feel,” he said. “Ideally I wouldn’t feel anything, but that was too tricky even for your father. But don’t assume I don’t wonder what would’ve happened if I’d disobeyed, just that one time. If I’d broken my contract. You think killing the man who made me doesn’t get to me?”

She looked up at him, somewhat dumbstruck by his words, and too exhausted by her emotional state to do much else. “So you do think about it…”

“Yes, I do.” She watched him a moment, noted something different in his eyes than she saw usually which suggested he was telling her the truth, and she nodded, leaning forward until she rested on his shoulder. He froze under her for a brief moment, and somewhat awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulders.


End file.
